


Depths

by theperipheral



Series: Canon divergence [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperipheral/pseuds/theperipheral
Summary: It's hot. Too hot for Lexa to enjoy anything about the evening. All she wants is to relax on her balcony in the cool breeze for a few hours before bed. Upon reaching her room, she finds a visitor with very different ideas.





	Depths

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is like... 3 weeks late. 
> 
> If there are any glaring errors, feel free to let me know. I've been staring at these words for way too long and I don't have a beta. It could be about anything at this stage tbh.

In the stifling heat of summer, Lexa is even more grateful for the tower’s elevator than usual. She thinks she might have to give the men who work the mechanism some sort of reward for their hard work, because the thought of having to climb the ladder to the top floor is not a pleasant one.

Just a few days away from the summer solstice, the metal box is not an enjoyable place to be, given the number of people using it each day. Ambassadors and clan leaders alike arrive day and night with last minute demands before the celebrations begin. Lexa is lucky that she’s the only person currently occupying the elevator, but the poor ventilation means the lingering stench of others’ sweat persists.

The elevator rumbles to a stop. The guards flanking the door bow as she strides past and she could swear one tries to hide a smirk. She doesn’t pause to ask what amuses him, simply desperate to bask in the evening breeze on her balcony. A pair of handmaids rush out of her room, empty buckets in hand. Lexa frowns. Something must have happened, because they’re never here this late. Whatever it is, it must be in hand because they offer no explanation. Instead they give a quick greeting before attempting to scurry off. Lexa catches the eye of one and stands still, blocking their path.

“Have a fruit platter sent up please,” she asks of them. “And cooled wine.”

Another barely perceptible smirk flashes over the face of the younger handmaid before she thinks better of it and murmurs her acquiescence. Lexa gives a grateful nod and lets them go.

She pushes the door open and immediately starts tugging at her clothes. They’re dark and clinging and soak up the sun, and she can’t bear to wear them any longer. Her sleeveless shirt goes first, tossed to one side. Boots and socks are next, followed by the struggle of extracting herself from tight fitting pants. Lexa’s about to make for the balcony when the trickle of water from across the room has her jerk to turn around.

“I was wondering when you’d notice I was here. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy the show though.”

Clarke stands by the bathtub, arms crossed, a grin on her face. Lexa’s suddenly very aware of her own nudity, but there’s no power on earth that could make her cover up right now.  

“You’re two days early.”

Clarke simply nods and reaches for the hem of her own linen shirt. Lexa’s throat goes dry as she watches each inch of skin come uncovered. Clarke’s a shade darker than she was last time they saw each other, her hair a little lighter. There’s a clear line on each of her shoulders where her clothing has covered her during the day and blocked out the sun’s effects and Lexa desperately wants to trace it. She swallows and moves to cross the room.

Free of clothing, Clarke raises her bare leg and dips a toe into the water. She steps up into the tub a moment later, the temperature meeting her approval. The moan that she lets out when she sinks down and leans back breaks Lexa from her daze and she can’t help but surge forward to kiss her hard. She leans over the bath, grasping the side and propping herself up with one hand, drinking in the surprised gasp she causes. Fingers thread in her hair and she lets Clarke pull her close enough that she’s in danger of falling in. She feels the cool water on her lover’s hands soothe her scalp and shudders at the sensation.

A breath later, there’s a sharp knock at the door and Clarke whips back an inch, glancing around as though they might be intruded upon.

“Not now,” Lexa calls out, gripping the edge of the tub harder. Her tone is a little harsher than she intends. She hadn’t been expecting to see Clarke ahead of schedule, but now that she’s here, she doesn’t want to waste a minute more than she needs to on anyone else.

“Your food, Heda.”

Lexa closes her eyes and sighs. Her chin rises in frustration, but she forces herself to pull away from the enticing vision before her.

“I’ll be right back.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows and settles back in the water, resigned to waiting.

Lexa presses her lips together in an attempt to calm herself, shaking her head as she approaches the door. When she opens it, she finds the younger of the two handmaids. The girl bows as best she can with the tray in her hands and waits to be allowed in to set a table. Instead, Lexa is quick to take it and thank her, then sends her on her way with the sincerest smile she can muster given the interruption.

When she closes the door and turns back, she sees a quizzical expression on Clarke’s face.

“Do your handmaids see you naked a lot?”

Setting the tray down on a small table, Lexa shrugs.

“Not for the same reasons you do.”

She doesn’t feel the need to explain herself too much. It’s entirely innocent, and she hopes that Clarke trusts that.

For the first time, she notes that there are two goblets on the tray. _Of course_ , Clarke had their help with the bath, so naturally they’d accommodate her in Lexa’s request. Condensation drips down the decanter of wine as she grips the handle and pours a cup for each of them. Clarke takes hers and gestures to the space in front of herself.

“Are you not joining me?”

Lexa slips into the cool water, squeezing herself in at the end opposite to Clarke. It’s a pleasant temperature that eases the heat of the day without being too frigid. Feeling toes scrape along her calf, she tries not to stretch out too much. The tub is fairly small and there’s not much room to spread out, but given the way Clarke’s looking at her over the rim of her cup, that may be part of the plan. She’s not about to protest.

“You know, we never had grapes in space,” Clarke says pointedly, shifting her gaze to the pile on the table. “Are they as good as they say?”

“That depends on what they say.”

Lexa leans over to pick up a bunch, but when she tries to hand it over, Clarke shakes her head and looks up from under her lashes. She parts her lips and waits expectantly, pink tongue on display. Getting the hint, Lexa takes her time selecting the perfect grape for Clarke’s first taste. It has to be the right consistency, with the right balance of sweetness and tang. There’s one that has the right amount of give when she presses the pad of her thumb into it, so she picks it from the stem and holds it out.

The water ripples as Clarke leans forward to take the dark round fruit from her. Warm, wet lips envelop her forefinger and thumb and the grape is teased from her grip with an agile tongue. Lexa lets her fingers slip from her mouth with regret. The moan of pleasure that rings out when Clarke bites into the flesh of the fruit has Lexa forcing her own mouth shut to prevent herself from slavering into the water. Bliss spreads over Clarke’s face as she chews and Lexa is so enraptured that she picks out a strawberry by feel alone.

“Better than I’d imagined,” Clarke says a moment later when she’s swallowed and leans forward for the next. She takes the red fruit between her teeth and waits for a moment, eyebrows high and teasing. There’s a devilish grin on her face as Lexa leans in and bites down, taking half for herself and giving a quick peck of thanks. She stays close as she swallows, stealing a deeper kiss that tastes of berry and wine.

Placing her drink down, Clarke reaches for the cleaning supplies at the other side of the tub. She dips a cloth into the water and tugs Lexa to sit up straight. She rubs soft, gentle circles up her arm, cleaning away the day’s grime.

“You don’t have to – ,” Lexa begins, but she’s cut off by a quick shush.

“I know. I want to.” 

Lexa’s not used to being cared for in this way. There’s a legion of people whose sole purpose is to serve her, but there’s also the whisper in her head that reminds her that they don’t care for _her_ , so much as their _commander_ , for the vessel of the flame. People respect and help her out of duty, but Clarke does these things because she cares. She does them, because as she said, she wants to.  

The cloth drags across her torso and down the other arm and Lexa barely registers it as she watches Clarke’s face, studying the serious and somehow still tender expression. Clarke is diligent in her efforts, meticulous until she reaches the old scar across Lexa’s palm. Fingertips press lightly along the length of it as though remembering why it’s there. Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hand and feels its twin, passing a gentle smile that eases the both of them.

Prying the cloth away, Lexa has Clarke turn around to face the other way. She tilts her head back slightly and fills a small brass jug. Sun-lightened blonde hair darkens as the water pours over it and Clarke must enjoy the feeling because she sighs blissfully and sinks a little further down.

She hasn’t had the pleasure of washing another person since her childhood, and this is markedly different. It’s a small care, but one she finds herself enjoying. Clarke’s limbs go loose and if pushed, she might just topple over. It’s a state of utter relaxation that has Lexa’s chest swell with both pride that she’s able to help, and affection.

Lexa carefully runs a wide-toothed comb through Clarke’s hair and works at snags as gently as she can. She builds a lather and revels in the little sounds of approval that ring out when she massages it into her scalp. Her favourite part might be when Clarke tips her head back as she pours fresh water to rinse out the suds, and exposes the elegant line of her neck that begs for attention.

When her work is done, Lexa obliges and leans forward to press her lips to Clarke’s pulse point, her arms snaking around to hold feather light across her abdomen. She dips her hands into the bath and brings them back cupped together. She sends water cascading over Clarke’s torso, stroking softly where it falls.

Clarke reaches up to cup the back of her head and Lexa’s kisses turn to full mouthing at her neck when she’s encouraged with a low, rumbling moan. She runs her fingers over her ribcage and under the curve of a full breast and splays them upwards to palm at it. Clarke is stronger than when they last saw each other, more muscle built around her sides. Lexa makes a note to ask about it later. For now, Clarke leans back into the contact, a muted gasp escaping as Lexa licks at the tiny pool of water gathered in the hollow between her neck and collar bone.

As Lexa scrapes her teeth over the line of Clarke’s shoulder, her free hand is dragged from where it draws broad circles across her navel and pushed down, below the surface of the water.

“Please?”

Clarke shudders as her fingertips ghost between her legs and pushes them against herself harder. Lexa can’t help but chuckle and accommodate the request.

When she first brushes through Clarke’s folds, she notes the different texture of the wetness she finds there. Careful not to wash the slick away, she teases over Clarke’s entrance with her middle finger, fleeting and gentle. Clarke shudders and turns her head back to join their mouths in a passionate, almost begging kiss that sends Lexa’s head spinning.

A subtle buck of Clarke’s hips returns Lexa to her task. She continues to gently tickle around Clarke’s opening and extends her forefinger upwards to meet her clit. At the first contact, Clarke shudders deeply and breathes her name, pressing further back into Lexa’s chest. Bringing her middle finger up to join the other, Lexa begins a slow, steady circling rhythm. She switches to Clarke’s other shoulder, sucking gently along the line between tan and not as she continues her ministrations.

Clarke’s breathing falters as Lexa adds a little more pressure and reverses her movements. Lexa’s other hand teases over a hard nipple, rolling and pinching at the same pace she uses further down. Clarke’s head lolls back to rest on Lexa’s shoulder, giving her an unobstructed view that she can’t help but whimper about.

“I missed seeing you like this,” she whispers down to Clarke, who turns to look at her, eyes hazy with lust.

Clarke’s eyelids flutter as the circles on her clit quicken. Her body trembles, knuckles turning white where she grips the tub. Her leg kicks out a fraction, toes curling as she bucks into Lexa’s hand and tenses all at once, then stills, lips pressed tightly together. She puffs out a breath and falls back, her weight fully against Lexa’s front. Lexa strokes down her arm, enjoying the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she recovers from the small orgasm, hinting at the promise of more.

Slowly, Clarke stabilises enough to kiss her, turning her whole body as she does. Water sloshes around at the sudden movement, some spilling over the sides onto the floor.

With a grin against Lexa’s mouth, Clarke strokes at her hip and cants her own forward. Lexa feels as though fire is running through her veins when fingers probe at her entrance, sliding easily with how turned on she is. A digit enters her a fraction and she shivers in anticipation. Shallow, gentle thrusts make Lexa’s legs tremble and she can’t help but pull Clarke close to her.

The sting when Clarke goes to add a second finger makes her wince and hiss in discomfort. The slight misjudgement has worry leap in Clarke’s eyes, but Lexa is quick to stroke her arm in a comforting gesture.

“We should move to the bed, the water is…”

Clarke swallows visibly and pulls her hand back, face red. Lexa laments the loss immediately, but the knowledge that they’ll both feel better out of the tub spurs her on. She stands and steps out, eager to continue. She extends a reassuring hand to her lover and helps her steady herself on the slippery floor as they leave a trail of wetness across the room.

They don’t make it to the bed. One miscalculated (or perhaps, _precisely_ calculated) step and Lexa finds herself tumbling onto the couch, a mess of wet limbs and sodden hair. Clarke lands on top a second later and laughs at the ridiculousness, full and happy and from the chest. Lexa shakes her head in fondness and pulls her down to drink in that joy and savour it. She grabs at Clarke’s ass and brings her hips down to settle between her own splayed thighs.

Clarke rocks as they kiss, her hands wandering and more comfortable on dry land. The leather of the couch makes obscene noises as they move, sticking to hot skin. Lexa gasps when she feels fingers at her nipple and arches into the touch. Heat boils in her belly and she quivers as Clarke leans down to suckle at the peak. In moments, Clarke’s mouth is everywhere, licking and sucking across Lexa’s skin, and all Lexa can do is cling on, digging her fingers in the flesh of her backside.

“Clarke,” she groans as a devilish tongue traces up the hollow of her neck and along her jaw. They can’t afford to leave marks, much though she might enjoy the idea on a personal level.

The fingers that left her just minutes ago find her slick and ready. Clarke’s thumb presses over her clit as her fingers draw lines up, spreading wetness. Teeth tug gently at Lexa’s bottom lip as finally, _finally_ Clarke finds her home inside her again. There’s no water making it difficult this time, and Clarke knows exactly what she’s doing.

It’s slow and gentle to begin with, all sound kisses and tender caresses. Lexa runs her hands up Clarke’s back to cup her face and sways with each push into her. A well-placed thrust has her cry out and crush her lips to Clarke’s, her entire body jolting upwards in excitement. She scrabbles for purchase, one hand flying up to the back of the couch, the other to the arm Clarke is using to hold herself up. She chances a look down at where Clarke’s hand works its steady in-out rhythm and her hips buck of their own accord.

“More,” she urges.

Clarke’s wrist twists slightly to adjust her angle and the pace alters. Lexa’s stomach tightens and she clenches around the fingers inside of her. Her head falls back on the armrest, mouth hanging open as Clarke sucks hard along her collarbone. She wrenches her up and joins their mouths in a torrid kiss. Clarke’s thumb reaches for her clit again and all she can do is gasp sharply in pleasure.

Pressure builds as Clarke nips at her lip and redoubles her efforts, her whole body shaking with the exertion. Lexa’s trembling turns to a full-bodied shudder. Clarke hooks her fingers into _just_ the right spot and she’s almost there. Lexa’s fingernails dig in to her arm as Clarke repeats the motion again, _again_ until, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide, neck stretched out, she tips over the edge. A fractured cry tumbles from her lips and Clarke strokes on through her climax, working until the last ripples subside.

Lexa’s breath comes in sharp huffs as she opens her eyes, hazy and sated. Clarke looks down at her, affection in her small, smug smile. Their mouths meet, a calming, lazy kiss as numb warmth spreads through Lexa’s body. As she strokes over Clarke’s back, she can feel the tension still held in the muscles there. When Lexa makes no move to remedy it, Clarke’s thighs rub together impatiently.

“What is it?” Lexa grins, lacing her fingers with the hand Clarke has planted by her head.

Clarke’s answer is to remove her fingers from Lexa and run them through her own slickness. The wetness spreads and Lexa licks her lips as she watches, unable to look away. Clarke nudges her with her knee insistently.

Lexa tugs at Clarke so their mouths are mere centimetres apart. She works one hand between them to slip through Clarke’s folds. She stares up at her, watching the minute twitch of her eyelid as she caresses over her clit.

“Let me taste you,” she whispers, feeling Clarke’s breathing hitch.

Clarke nods.

Lexa has her lift up and slides herself further down on the couch. Her skin sticks to the leather uncomfortably, but she manages to settle after some adjustment, her head and neck flat against the seat. Clarke hesitates, hovering for a moment before allowing herself to be coaxed forward by a brush of fingertips on her waist. She shuffles up, one knee to the side of Lexa’s head, the other leg over the edge of the couch. Lexa pulls her up by the hip so she hovers above her face, rubbing soothing lines with her thumbs. She nods encouragingly, and Clarke lowers herself slowly down, gripping on to the back of the couch as she does.

Lexa breathes in deep at the sight, almost salivating. She runs her lips across the inside of a creamy thigh. Clarke tenses a little so she kneads gently with assuring fingers, soothing and strong. She takes her time teasing along Clarke’s legs, sucking tiny marks as she waits for impatience to kick in again. It takes mere moments.

With a shift of her hips, Clarke drops the last of the distance and Lexa presses kisses over her full folds. She parts the glistening lips before her with a tentative lick, the shiver of reply more than enough encouragement to continue. Edging around Clarke’s entrance with her tongue, Lexa slides one arm up to circle around her thigh and scratches lightly into the skin at the small of her back with her other hand.

Clarke clenches on nothing and the twitch prompts Lexa to pause and rest her tongue for a moment over her slit. She looks up, her chin tilting and pressing her face in closer and sees Clarke staring down, eyes heavy lidded, lips parted in anticipation.

She maintains eye contact as her tongue slips up and around Clarke’s clit, a gentle, broad stroke. She traces around it before offering a swipe over the bud, just as mild. An impatient rock has her increase the pressure and repeat herself.

Lexa is deliberate in her motions, watching and building on Clarke’s reactions. A flick over her clit and a long suck above it has her thighs clenching, a lingering slide over her opening has her unconsciously pushing down. Lexa drinks it all in and finds a rhythm that soon has Clarke rolling her hips above her, hands clinging where they grip the couch.

She’s rewarded with guttural moans and a fresh sluice of slick down her chin. Watching Clarke writhe above her is an almost spiritual experience and she wonders briefly, selfishly, if it would be wrong to draw out her worship. She feels the shudder in Clarke’s movements when she dips her tongue inside for a moment and does it again.

One of Clarke’s hands finds its way to her hair and Lexa finds she couldn’t bear to deny her, even if she tried. She closes her lips around her clit and suckles, then begins a series of quicker, more powerful licks.

Clarke swears and bears down, legs trembling. Lexa has to push back to keep from suffocating, but stopping doesn’t even cross her mind. With determination, she moans deep in her throat and her tongue slips faster.

“Shit, Lexa.”

She looks up and notes the rapid fluttering of Clarke’s abdomen and feels the convulsion against her face. She breathes deep through her nose and steadies her with both hands on her waist. She can’t to look away, almost afraid she’ll miss something of the wonder above her.

It doesn’t take much more to turn Clarke into a quivering mess. Lexa laps at her clit and sucks it in to lathe it with attention, quick, consistent strokes that have thighs constricting around her head. The fingers in her hair tighten and legs quake either side of her. Clarke’s face is fascinating to watch, chin trembling, lips drawn tightly together, skin flushed.

Clarke gasps and bites at her own bottom lip as she goes rigid for a second and, catching herself a second later, falls forward, expletives falling from her mouth. She grabs onto the armrest, trying to hold herself up without crushing Lexa beneath her. Lexa keeps her pace, grabbing a handful of hip and holding on as Clarke shudders through her orgasm.

It takes a few moments for the shaking to subside, and when it does, Clarke eases herself out of Lexa’s grip and slides down on trembling limbs so she can drape herself over her, chest still heaving. Lexa’s arms curl around her and despite the heat, it feels just right to be so close.

“That was…” Clarke doesn’t finish her sentence, just nuzzles further into Lexa’s chest.

“Yes, it was.”

Lexa’s missed this. Not just the sex, but being with Clarke in general. It’s been months since they first fell into bed, almost six weeks since they decided that they want to try for a real, tangible relationship, and yet they’ve barely seen each other in that time. She wouldn’t admit to counting days, but a large part of her has been waiting, maybe even making half formed plans for when they’ll next see each other. Now that they’re together, none of them seem right.

“I want to show you Polis,” she murmurs.

Clarke looks up at her, barely lifting her head.

“Now? Pretty sure your people would be scandalised seeing their commander walking through the streets naked.”

Lexa quirks her eyebrow in amusement.

“It’s different during the solstice. And you never had the chance to see it all last time you were here.”

Neither of them bring up the circumstances surrounding _why_ that was the case. Instead, Clarke climbs up onto her elbows.

“Are you asking me on a date? Gonna show me the sights, wine me and dine me?”

Lexa shrugs.

“I think you’ll like the city. The people will like you too.”

Clarke reaches up to stroke Lexa’s hair from the crown of her head to her ear, a small smile on her face. Lexa sighs contentedly and lets her head drop to the side. Just past Clarke’s shoulder, she spies the tub again and the abandoned wine and fruit.

It’d be a shame to waste it.

**Author's Note:**

> Brought to you by the Spice Girls, Steps, and the DOOM 2016 soundtrack.


End file.
